


The Stepsisters' Lament

by MontmarayRoyal



Category: Cinderella (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontmarayRoyal/pseuds/MontmarayRoyal
Summary: A look at how the stepsisters might have felt through the Cinderella story
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Stepsisters' Lament

We came long ago, full of life and happiness. We remember that carriage ride like it was yesterday. Mother nervously warned us, “Be gentle. She is still in deep mourning, even after a year and a half. But oh, I hope she likes me. I love her father so much. I hope she lets me love her too. ” Our first night we asked you about your hobbies, your favorite colors, foods, whatever we could think about. You were silent, even when your father gave you a pointed glare. He answered for you, and we heard him talking to you afterwards. “Ella, get ahold of yourself. I miss her too, but she isn’t coming back, she wouldn’t want you to be like this.”  
“You’re trying to replace her. And with that low class woman of all people. And those girls, such inane questions.”   
“I told you, I will never be able to replace her, but I can’t live by myself for the rest of my life. I also deserve some happiness.”  
“Well don’t worry, because she will never take Mummy’s place. Never!”  
Two months later your father left on a business trip. Mother missed him and so did we. He was lively and funny and he told great jokes. As he left, Mother stood by the door waving goodbye and starting to cry. You walked by; “I suppose that you’re really going to miss him”, you sneered at her.   
“Yes. Yes I will. “Mother responded simply. “I love your father very much. And I know that I will never replace your mother, but I don’t want to. I would love to get along with you, though. I would love it if we could find some common ground.”  
“Oh, that’s what it is. Now that he’s gone, you can make me do whatever you want, I suppose.” You flounced away.  
One month later, Mother was arranging flowers, wanting everything to be perfect for your father’s return. The door rang and she answered it, a puzzled look on her face as she accepted a letter from an important looking messenger. As soon as she read it, she collapsed murmuring “Oh John, oh John.” You went into hysterics, as Mother started to pull herself together, arranging for death notices to be sent out to all of his friends and family, figuring out the nearest funeral home, the exact location of the family burial plot. We all mourned together; in private, even you could find a little solace with us and Mother, even if all of your stories did begin with “when Mummy was alive we used to…” We were willing to forgive you that though, both your parents were dead; however much we might miss your father’s sense of humor, the way he would laugh at his own jokes until the whole room had joined in with him, at least we had mother. It was different when visitors came; you had your friends around you, and Mother barely knew anyone. A few visitors had just ventured over to pay their respects, when you suddenly broke out in racking sobs, “He was the only family I had left… what will I do without him…we used to be so close…” They never failed to glance at Mother apologetically before returning to comfort you.   
When we left the manor you were furious. “This home has been in my family for generations. How could you even think of leaving it? It shouldn’t even be yours in the first place, it should be mine. And it would be if you hadn’t invaded our lives.”  
“I told you Ella,” Mother said calmly, but there was just a hint of steel in her eyes. “This is the only way to pay back what we owe for the merchandise that went down with your father’s ship.”  
When we got to the house, it was pleasantly surprising. Smaller than the palatial mansion that you were used to, certainly; but nevertheless definitely spacious enough for all us, and definitely easier to clean, the lack of servants for the past month had been hard on the manor. We began spreading out and claiming bedrooms. We were thrilled to share a room, and certainly relieved to have enough space for you to have your own room. Neither of us enjoys sweeping or dusting, but we enjoyed working near each other, and singing while doing it. Every day we would hear you sulkily washing the dishes, or reminding Mother that if your father had married a proper aristocrat then this would never have happened.   
It all came to a head with the ball. Mother groaned when the invitation came; she knew that there was no money for new dresses. “Oh wonderful, I’ll be able to see all my friends” you gloated, rambling on about dukes and marchionesses, occasionally name dropping to show just how close with them you were. We began assembling our nicest dresses, and pooling our small collection of jewelry to find the nicest pieces for each of us. You started to sulk and whine about how nothing you had was good enough and Mother was being so stingy, not to allow you to get a new ball gown. Finally you resorted to your last card: “I’ll have to call my godmother if no one here cares enough to see that I look decent.”   
“Your godmother? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her?”  
“Oh, the Lady Charlotte FitzOsborne. She’s usually traveling abroad, but I know that she’ll come back when she hears about this.”   
We were giggling quietly in the next room over. “You mean we could have foisted her off on someone else all this time?”   
“I bet she doesn’t really have a godmother, otherwise she would have left long ago. I mean, think of it, sweeping when you could be traveling abroad.”   
So we were all shocked when a lady in purple satin swept up to the front door, “I understand you have my goddaughter living in this place.” Mother could only nod as you glided gracefully out.  
The memories of the ball have faded away. We arrived, and saw our friends from our old village, but we were all too nervous to talk; the idea of dancing with the prince was just too overwhelming to allow for casual chatting. We each danced with the prince, chatting with him for a minute, or trying to at least. He spent the whole ball staring over his partner’s right shoulder, which certainly made it just a little bit difficult to converse.   
Then you arrived in a scarlet gown that was stunning against your pale skin and rubies set in silver that gleamed against your raven hair. You arrived fashionably late, and waited at the top of the staircase until even the king and queen were spellbound by your radiance. Then you glided slowly down the steps straight toward the prince. He dropped his partner like a worn-out shoe, and came toward you as if in a trance. You started waltzing, and like leaves in the wind, the other girls started drifting away, leaving you waltzing in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Always love comments and constructive criticism!!


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